A boat hull slaps softly against a dock. A gull with all the time in the world perches atop a piling. A fishing line whizzes and whirs across the creek, landing with a faint splash. A breeze rustles the reeds.

It's rush hour, Leeds Point.

It's part of the Other Jersey Shore, the one you never read about, the stretch from Mystic Island, New Gretna and Port Republic down to Leeds Point and Oceanville, three counties - Ocean, Burlington, Atlantic - flashing by in the matter of minutes.

An atmospheric, moody, lonely slice of Shore that's never promoted or praised, or prettified on some full-color calendar.

"When I see this in the early morning,'' Phil Andersen says of the view from his crab shack in Leeds Point, "it's like someone put a million bucks in my pocket.''

He's the owner of Mullica River Crab Co., which is not on the Mullica at all but Oyster Creek. Several hundred yards away is the Oyster Creek Inn, a bar/restaurant whose rambling, hodgepodge look fits right in with the shacks along the creek.

Off to the left is Long Beach Island. To the right, Atlantic City shimmers in the late afternoon haze, a surreal Xanadu beyond the marsh.

The inn, celebrating its 75th anniversary, is run by brothers Scott, Jason and Adam Kuppel. Their grandparents, William and Louise Kuppel, took over the business from their great uncle, Bob Kuppel, and Sonny Halverson in 1946.

William Kuppel - everyone called him "Pop Pop'' - was a funny, feisty sort who had boxed in the Army.

"He liked everyone,'' Scott Kuppel recalls. "If he didn't like you, you were probably a jerk.''

Louise Kuppel made pies for the restaurant in the basement of her home two miles down the road. Her banana cream was legendary.

The original Oyster Creek Inn opened in 1938.

Today, the rambling restaurant seats 300, and the screened-in Crab Room is popular. But GPS, not to mention most of Jersey, is not familiar with this Oyster Creek, because every once in a while a tractor-trailer pulls up in front of the inn. The driver will ask, "Where's the nuke plant?''

"We get deliveries for them,'' Jason Kuppel says of the Oyster Creek Generating Station
in Forked River. "It's, 'Buddy, you're in the wrong place.' ''

The inn doesn't have to go far for its crabs; they come from Andersen, who has run the business for 40 years.

"A crab grows about one third its length every time it sheds his skin,'' he says inside his shack, where crabs scuttle across water-filled bins.

"Crabs like water around 50 degrees,'' he adds. "Gets their metabolism going to get them moving into the pots.''

He's out on the water by 6:30 a.m. six days a week, crabbing in Great Bay, Little Bay and the Mullica River, which he calls "the cleanest water on the East Coast'' - no industry around, and it runs through the Pine Barrens.

In what seems like someone else's life, he was once a sales manager for Mideast Aluminum.

"I was flying all over, never saw my kids,'' he recalls. "I said, I don't even like this job.''

He sold his house in Cherry Hill, opening the crab business in Leeds Point. He was no stranger to the forgotten Shore; he spent summers as a kid in Port Republic.

"Went from a steady pay check and benefits to paying for your own benefits and living by your wits,'' says Andersen, who turns 70 next April. "I don't have any regrets. That lifestyle didn't suit me; this does.''

John Reese, right, is among the cast of characters who can be found outside the crab shack.Peter Genovese/The Star-Ledger

The "cast of characters'' who hang out at the shack include John Reese, who works for free here, baiting and repairing crab pots.

Fishing's good; he pulls up several taug, otherwise known as blackfish.

Down the bumpy dirt road from the Oyster Creek Inn is a blue shack rented out by a clammer. There's a bungalow in between. Next to Mullica River Crab Co. is a now-boarded-up clam shack run for many years by Bob Wilson. That's pretty much Leeds Point, at least the part on Oyster Creek.

In the winter, Andersen takes duck hunters out into the marshes. Camo outfits, blinds and heavy gloves fill the cozy shack. The floor is made of 2 1/2 inch thick longleaf yellow pine. "You can't even buy wood like that anymore,'' he says.

Sandy barreled through Leeds Point last fall, but the old crab shack stood its ground.
"It's been a good life,'' Andersen says. "When I started a long time ago, an old-timer told me sometimes you think you'll starve but you never will.''

The boarded-up clam shack next to the Mullica River Crab Co. Peter Genovese/The Star-Ledger

It's time for Andersen to pick up his boat, being repaired at a local marina. The gravel parking lot at the Oyster Creek Inn is starting to fill up; the venerable restaurant stays open through the winter. Reese sits on the dock, fishing.

It's late afternoon, Leeds Point. The summer resorts are starting to pack up for the summer. Rides will soon be shut down, booths shuttered.

But out here, in the great big beautiful Jersey middle of nowhere - minutes from the Parkway and a world from anywhere - life goes on, unadorned and unnoticed.